


Tapped Out

by Zendelai



Series: Mia Shepard [4]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Biotics, Colonist origin, Gen, Pre-Mass Effect, Very Mild Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/pseuds/Zendelai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On shore leave, Mia Shepard receives a call that puts her one step closer to the slaver that orchestrated the murder of her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tapped Out

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be participating in NaNoWriMo this year, writing a fic centered on Mia Shepard and Thane Krios. This is a prequel of sorts for that fic.

“Shepard?”

Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice. “Anderson.”

“I’ve got news.”

Shepard’s spine stiffened at the Captain’s three short, but very vital, words. “Good news?”

Brief silence rang from the other line. “You know I can’t sanction this, Shepard.”

“You also know I’m not asking you to.”

Anderson sighed. “This didn’t come from me.”

“Of course it didn’t.”

“A batarian ship just docked on the Citadel. Bay E36. The captain is one Zhek Gar’Ilan.”

At the sound of that name, Shepard’s mouth became dry and her blood felt like it had frozen in her ventricles. “You’re sure?” she choked out.

“He used his real name, Shepard. Bastard’s got a set of balls.”

“His arrogance can be used against him. Any more info for me?”

“Just one: he’s only rented the dock for the evening. If I were you... I’d get to work.”

“I will, Anderson. Sir.” Shepard swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat, and the words that came after were strained. “Thank you.”

Anderson whispered, “Good luck,” before Shepard closed the call.

_Zhek Gar’Ilan._

_You fucking bastard._

_Today, you die._

Her moment had come, the moment she had been waiting for since she was sixteen. The timing couldn’t be more ideal: she was on shore leave for another 24 hours, just enough time to track the bastard down before putting a bullet in his brain. 

Sweeping the hotel room, she suited up: first pulling on her underarmour, then clipping on the pieces of her armour, clicking her pistol and SMG into place on her back, and sliding her shotgun into place.

She had no idea what Gar’Ilan had in store for her, after all, so she needed to be prepared. 

Leaving the rest of her things locked in the hotel room she entered the Citadel Wards, making straight for the Docks. She walked with purpose, her boots clanging against the floor with each step, her brow set in a determined furrow. Years of anger that she had so carefully stowed away were rising to the surface again. Crowds parted as she walked, fearing the heavily-armed woman equipped with a deadly gaze.

They should be scared. She was out for blood.

Quicker than ever she reached the C-Sec checkpoint to the Docks. Resting her elbows on his desk, she surveyed Officer Bailey with dark eyes. 

“Something you need, Shepard?” Bailey was a likable man with a kind demeanor, but the moment he saw Shepard’s expression he stiffened, nervous. 

“You seen a few batarians pass through here? Out of Bay E36?”

Averting her gaze, Bailey rubbed the back of his neck. “I think so, about an hour ago. Rowdy bunch, looked like they might have been heading for Chora’s Den or Flux, somewhere with drinks.”

Before Bailey even finished the names, Shepard had turned on her heel to head straight to the dingy club, knowing it was closer than the Den. She turned to Bailey, nodded, and muttered, “Thanks.”

“There gonna be any trouble, Shepard?”

Holding his gaze, she schooled her expression into something closer to neutrality. “With me? Never.”

Looking down at his keyboard, Bailey shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “If I hear anything, you were never here, got it?”

With an affirming nod Shepard took off, very grateful that she had befriended a man like Bailey.

\--

She saw him.

In the scope of her pistol, she could see Gar’Ilan.

Flux had been filled with sweaty youth trying to drown their problems in either gambling or alcohol, but no batarians had been situated there. Chora’s Den, however, was another story: a group of five of them were perched in front of an asari who was down to her skimpiest lingerie, dancing while sending nervous glances towards her clearly drunk patrons. 

She easily recognized Gar’Ilan by his heavy armour and single missing eye. The sight of him turned her blood to ice and her skin to electricity, her biotic implant prickling from the desire to rip him apart limb from limb. Had she a choice, she would have killed him slowly, but life was not always kind enough to provide such options. Just killing him would have to suffice for the deaths of every member of her family. 

_Mom._

_Dad._

_Eric._

_Olivia._

_Marcus._

_I will avenge you, all of you._

As she thought of each of her family members, their faces flashed in her mind. Her memories of her family were a double-sided coin: sometimes she saw them happy and laughing, and sometimes she saw them dying in agony. Gar’Ilan had turned each happy memory with her family into poison, and he had turned each sleep of hers into a nightmare. Killing him would perhaps ease the nightmares, but never again would she be able to bring back her family. His death would be a small respite, yet the only respite she would ever be granted.

Gar’Ilan was laughing, clutching his chest as he spilled his drink. She wondered why. Was it a joke one of his fellow slavers had made? Were they recalling fond memories of murdering innocent people who weren’t ‘suitable’ to be slaves? Her blood seemed to shift as she watched him laugh, from ice cold to boiling hot, shooting out each of her limbs, propelling her forward to finally exact revenge.

She would have to be smart; he was surrounded by the club’s security as well as his own cronies and bodyguards. Not to mention the fact that he was far from a stupid man, in spite of his arrogance. Through her scope she analyzed her situation: one krogan stood beside Gar’Ilan, holding his assault rifle out with a scowl on his face. Gar’Ilan was also surrounded by four of his slaver friends, but judging by the volume of empty glasses on the table, they were all inebriated enough to make her task at least a little easier. Two other krogan security guards were posted at the corners of the club, but she hoped that she would be able to provide a distraction for them. Everyone else in the room appeared to be an innocent patron, and she hoped to keep civilian casualties to a minimum in this situation, although she accepted she would do what she had to in order to rid the galaxy of Gar’Ilan.

In the back of her skull her implant buzzed, as eager for revenge as she was. Ducking low, she slid underneath a table beside the entrance, one of the krogan security guards only feet away from her. When he was turned away, she projected a singularity towards the second krogan security guard, making it look like it came from the guard directly in front of her. The second guard began to cry out the name of the first guard while he rolled helplessly in the air. With the two of them distracted for the moment, she acted fast: keeping low she rolled into the line of Gar’Ilek’s cronies. Gar’Ilek was farthest from her, so she used a Stasis on his krogan bodyguard to eliminate him first. The four of Gar’Ilek’s batarians stood and blocked him, pistols aimed at Shepard; two shots from her own pistol, one into a kneecap and another into a skull, dropped two of his cronies. Patrons stood and began to scream, scrambling towards the doors until they were blocked. Once those in the back realized that their exit was blocked they began to climb over those in the middle, as helpless as a herd of sheep without a shepherd being chased by a wolf.

But neither the crowd of people nor the remaining two batarian guards were her concern; the cold barrel of a shotgun being pressed into the back of her head was.

“Valiant effort,” a cold voice hissed, “But do you really think Zhek was foolish enough to only bring five guards with him?” 

Internally she cursed at her foolishness and brashness. Of  _course_ he would have guards hidden in the crevices. Her eagerness would, once again, keep her from her goal. 

At very least, she could survive the encounter; she grabbed the barrel and, before the voice could shoot, used it to flip herself to gaze into the cold grey eyes of her turian captor before she unleased a powerful Throw, sending him careening against the wall. However, the move had pulled her from cover so she dove back behind a wall. By the time she had recovered, she turned to find Gar’Ilek and his two remaining batarian guards gone, most likely out the back door, with his krogan guard starting to resist his Stasis and his turian guard beginning to stand, rubbing his head, his eyes red with anger.  

Her expression pulled into a grimace from exhaustion, she reached into the depths of her biotics and attempted to unleash a Pull; it was met with the feeling of scraping into the bottom of an empty bowl, her reserves completely tapped, and all that she received in turn was the first vestiges of a migraine from overexertion. 

“Fuck!” she cried, her teeth clenching so hard that her jaw ached, angry tears spotting in the corners of her eyes. She could try and chase Gar’Ilek but with her biotics tapped out there was no way she’d be able to face three batarians with a turian and a krogan on her heels; not to mention the fact that C-Sec was doubtless on their way to investigate the commotion. 

Her heart ached at the thought of letting Gar’Ilek escape when he was within her grasp, yet what would her family say if she killed herself to avenge him?

 _It’s not worth your life to avenge ours, pumpkin._  

Disappointment flooding through her in heavy waves, she turned and jostled into the middle of the crowd, feigning fear as she slipped away from the failed chaos she created.

\--

“I read an alert over the ‘Net about one batarian killed and one injured in the Den by an unknown human, although neither of them were Gar’Ilek. No luck?”

Shepard was unable to look at the screen as she shook her head slowly, shame weighing down every muscle. Through heavy lips she whispered, “He got away.”

Anderson’s words were punctuated harshly through pursed lips. “We’ll find him, Mia. It may not be today, but we will find him.”

The use of her first name was a rarely afforded treat, one she knew Anderson was using to comfort her. “He’ll only increase his guard after this. I won’t be able to do it alone next time.”

“You won’t be alone next time.” New tears prickled hot in the corners of her eyes, but they were gracious tears, not shameful ones. “I’ll keep you updated on any news on his movements that I receive. Anderson out.”

The screen flickered black, and Shepard rested her face in her hands, muffling her frustrated scream with her palms.

This time, she hadn’t been ready for Gar’Ilek. She was too young and rash. But next time, she would be. And next time, she would capture him, and make each of his last moments as agonizing as her life had become after watching Gar’Ilek murder her family.

She was certain of it.


End file.
